


Through Heaven's Eyes

by Lies_Unfurl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lies_Unfurl/pseuds/Lies_Unfurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel says something he regrets, he visits Sam in his dreams to try to make things up. It turns into an attempt to convince Sam of his self-worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Heaven's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cxj02354 on Tumblr's Sassy Santa exchange. Prompt was, "Sam’s soul is the brightest thing Castiel has ever seen, and after he calls him an abomination, Castiel immediately regrets it. He goes to Sam in his sleep and apologizes."

"Sam, of course, is an abomination."

The words slip out of Castiel's alcohol-loosened lips without a second thought. It's something that he was first taught a long time ago, something that Heaven re-indoctrinated into him during his reeducation: Lucifer's vessel is to voluntarily consume the blood of demons, damning himself to the Pit for all eternity. No pure and righteous creature would ever do that.

But he hasn't actually believed that for a very long time. Not since he actually saw Sam Winchester's soul.

Sam is… he doesn't know how to describe it. He's… pure. The demon blood should have tainted him, left a huge, dark blotch over the spread of his soul, but it didn't. Instead, Sam's soul is clean and open, thrumming with a sincerity the likes of which Castiel has never before seen, not in all his centuries of watching saints and prophets live and die.

The words still come out of his mouth, though, and he sees the way Sam's face twitches, the guilt of all his sinful actions written clearly over his features. And for one of the first times in his life, Castiel feels a very potent regret, and so he vows to himself to somehow make it up to Sam.

*

Later, after the Whore of Babylon is dead and Dean is gone, after Castiel's entire body has turned into one giant ache, and after Sam has collapsed into his bed, his face buried into his pillow and his shoulders shaking with either anger or despair at his brother's leaving – after all of that, Castiel gets his chance to make it up to Sam.

He sinks down next to Sam's sleeping body. He's still fully-clothed, Castiel notes, recognizing in a distant sort of way that going to sleep in the same things that you put on that morning is not normal behavior. Probably he should do something about it – wrestle Sam's giant coat off of his body, take off his shoes, something.

But then Castiel figures he has more pressing matters to attend to, and so he chooses to focus on that. He reaches out and rests a shaking hand on Sam's scalp, carefully tangling his fingers in the long strands. Sam doesn’t stir.

Castiel closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. He's tired and feels very far from Heaven, but he has just enough power left in him to pull this off.

When he opens his eyes again, he's inside a bustling church during Communion. A line of people stretches from one central figure, apparently the priest.

Castiel cranes his neck to see, and his heart sinks. It's Azazel.

He strides through the crowd, pushing past all of the dream-people (who, he notes, are really all demons). Sam is kneeling at the front. He's trembling, his shoulders shaking with the struggle of resisting the goblet Azazel holds out to him. Castiel can't see what's inside, but he can guess that it's not the blood of Christ. In all likelihood, it's blood in a far more literal sense.

In any case, Castiel doesn't stand around to check. Instead, he reaches out and grabs Sam's wrist, tugging him to his feet. Not offering an explanation, he extends his Grace and recreates Sam's dream, turning the church into something far more pleasant.

Sam stares at him, looking confused. His hand, the one not being gripped by Castiel, hovers up near Castiel's cheek. "Cas? What — what's going on? Is it Dean? Did he say yes; is that why you're here?"

"No." He hasn't been able to track Dean down yet, but he's confident that they have enough time to do this while Dean ties up whatever loose ends he has. "Nothing like that."

"Then why?" Sam steps back, gently but firmly tugging his wrist out of Castiel's hold. "Man, you should be getting some rest or something. You looked like hell out there."

"I came to… apologize." The words are like rocks in Castiel's mouth, awkward and unfamiliar, heavy as he forces them out. "For what I said earlier. About you being an… abomination."

"What? Oh." Sam frowns and cocks his head. "That? Why would you apologize? It's true."

Sam turns away from Castiel as he says that, a small and bitter smile twitching at his lips. He stares out at the new dreamscape Castiel's made – the Pacific Ocean just past sunset. The sand under their feet is silvery and the waters are purplish with the reflected twilight. Castiel wove it around memories that Sam has of a beach house rented with Jess years ago.

"Sam, no. It isn't." Castiel steps to his side and stares up at him, begging him to recognize the truth of the matter – that Sam is worth so, so much, and Castiel values him more than he can possibly express. "You are not an abomination, I promise you that. You… you have no idea how pure your soul is, Sam. How brightly you shine among all of the corrupted people out there."

Sam laughs and walks out to stand at the very edge of the water. The sea is calm, and waves lap gently around his feet. "I've got demon blood in me. There's no way that's true. What you said… I mean, you were being honest. I know you were. Being drunk does that: it makes you tell the truth, all the things that you regret later."

Castiel edges towards him, and they stand side-by-side, looking out onto the darkening water. He doesn't know what to say – isn't good with words in general, but is ten times poorer than usual when it comes to comforting.

He reaches down and scoops up a handful of water. He stares at it, at how it catches the pale moonlight, and then he turns to Sam. He lifts his hands up. "Drink this."

Sam blinks at him, recoiling back from the proffered drink. "What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Well – yeah, but that's salt water, Cas, I—" Sam sputters to a stop, clearly not sure how to react. Castiel stares at him imploringly, keeping his hands steady so he doesn't spill a single drop.

Sam cups his hands over Castiel's and lifts them up to meet his lips. He takes a single long sip, his eyes locked with Castiel the whole time.

After he swallows, he straightens up and wipes his mouth. His brow is furrowed, but his eyes are still locked with Castiel's, and Cas thinks that is a very good sign. "That was clean water. There wasn't any salt in that."

"But you didn't think that at first. You assumed it was one thing, an impure substance. It was only after you trusted me that you saw the error of your ways." An edge of desperation has entered Castiel's voice. He stares at Sam, begging him to understand.

Sam smiles, but it lacks sincerity. There's something sad, and something vaguely like a parent indulging a child at the edges of his lips. "I see where you're going with this. That's… it's kind of you, Cas. You're a good person. "

"So. Are. You." Castiel grabs Sam's hands. They feel rough and warm in his, though maybe that's just because the water was cold against Castiel's palms. He is aware that what he is doing is reckless and stupid, but the world is ending, and there's still a bit of alcohol coursing through his veins.

He stands on his toes and presses his lips against Sam's. Sam starts, and for a moment Castiel fears he will pull away and nothing between them will ever be right again.

But instead, Sam tightens his hold on Castiel's hands, and he leans in, kissing Castiel back fiercely. It's rough and desperate, and somehow sorrowful too. But Castiel does not doubt for a moment that it is right.

"I would not," he gasps to Sam during their short breaks for air, "I would not be doing this… if you were an abomination… trust me."

And he thinks that maybe Sam does.

(Thinks, yes, but he doesn't know for certain – when Sam wakes up, Castiel hears the sound of a prophet praying to Michael, and so he flees from Sam's side to stop Dean from bringing down Armageddon on the world. Things move in a blur after that, and Castiel becomes human, and Sam starts preparing himself for Lucifer, and somehow they never have the chance to talk about what happened. Even after Sam comes back, freshly souled, Castiel doesn't bring it up, all too aware of his own taint born from his dealings with Crowley. By the time that neither of them is working with demons, or dead or crazy, several years have passed, and Castiel doesn't think it would be worth bringing the kiss up again. He wonders sometimes, when Sam's gaze seems to linger on him, but he can never quite find the right words with which to talk about what happened.)


End file.
